


Supermarket Meet-Cute

by mylifeisloki



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, and Natasha can't reach something on the top shelf, they meet in a supermarket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2319083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was for a fic where they meet at the supermarket and Natasha is too short to reach something on the top shelf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were few things Steve hated more than grocery shopping. It was so mundane and boring and there were always middle aged women checking him out- the kind who would call him ‘sweetie’ and ask him if he was cooking for his girlfriend or something. No. No, he wasn’t. He just ate a lot and had to learn how to cook once his mother got sick because otherwise he’d starve to death, thank you very much. With that said, he frequented a particular supermarket just two blocks from his house in Brooklyn- the house he’d inherited when his mother died. His only saving grace, considering the fact that he lived off a pension from the army, was that he owned the house and didn’t have to pay a mortgage or anything  
  
But what else could he have expected after what he’d been through? He enlisted at twenty after a year and a half of art school and found out that he was actually really good at being a soldier. Following orders was rough, but he was fast and strong, and he could lead. Unfortunately, there was no accounting for accidents that could happen. He lost his best friend, who had enlisted beside him, and he’d been pretty badly wounded himself. They had said that he wouldn’t recover—or at least that was what they told him afterwards—and he’d pulled through.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure whether or not living for a while longer was worth the PTSD and the after effects of a coma that lasted nearly a year. He had no family, no friends to speak of. He didn’t go out much anymore, save to buy his weekly food, take a long run every morning and workout at a gym in the evenings.

The supermarket was of a decent size: twelve or so aisles, plus a section with fruit and the deli counter, and the meat section near the back. Now that he’d gone there steadily, every single Saturday at ten in the morning for four months, the cashiers were starting to recognize him and Steve was starting to think that the looks they gave him were out of pity. So he was alone. He was only twenty-seven, not seventy-two, and not having a girlfriend wasn’t the end of the world, okay? There were more important things to think about, like whether or not he should go back into the service and whether or not adopting a dog from the pound would be a good idea.

But exactly four months into his weekly visits to that particular store, he saw _her_ for the first time. At first, he’d only caught a glimpse of her curls as she rounded a corner. They were red and silky and he followed her like an idiot, turning around halfway there because he felt like he was being creepy. That didn’t stop him, however, from casually moving into the same aisle and peeking over at her while he considered the cans of soup in front of him.

She was gorgeous. The woman he’d been so mesmerized with was several inches shorter than him with plump lips and a little, upturned nose. Her hair fell over her shoulders in soft curls that Steve immediately wanted to spend hours sketching and shading and coloring. She looked up and met his eyes for a split second before he darted around the corner and pretended to have everything he needed. So what if he had to make another stop later that night?

This went on for some time, though Steve was slowly working up the courage to actually speak to her. The thing was—how did one randomly approach a complete stranger in the supermarket and hope that she might want to go out for dinner sometime? Would she say yes to a total stranger? Did he look like a creep? Oh, God. Had she _seen_ him looking at her the way he did, with fascination and admiration and longing because deep down he was really fucking lonely?

Another three months just flew by and then one Saturday, she wasn’t there. See, they both had a pattern. Steve would begin in the fruits and vegetables section and by the time he got to the boxes of pasta, she would be either in the same aisle as him or one aisle ahead. He was not averse to skipping an aisle just so he could…completely ignore her and pretend that he was incredibly interested in the nutritional information on the back of everything from boxed macaroni and cheese to a can of sardines. This Saturday, he couldn’t find her no matter how much he wandered around the aisles, probably looking like an idiot to anyone who might have seen him.

He told himself that she was busy and went on with his day, but the next week- she still wasn’t there. One more week and Steve was beginning to worry. Maybe she’d chosen another day to do her shopping to avoid him. The thought weighed heavily on his mind as he went through that week and for some reason his nightmares seemed a lot more real. He’d gone through with that adoption, so when he woke up in a cold sweat, at least he had Belle curled up beside him in bed. That was what he’d named her- Liberty Belle. Since he’d spotted her the first time, Steve’s sketchbook had been populated by half finished sketches of the same woman- her hair, her hands, her eyes. She’d smiled at him once and he’d nearly died of embarrassment, but he’d also drawn her with a goofy grin on his own face. Those sketches were spread out over his desk in the corner of the room and Steve looked them over several times during that week. 

He had to talk to her.

When he arrived at the supermarket, he was almost hesitant to head in there and find her still missing—but she was there! He stopped at the soup aisle and grinned stupidly, both hands on the cart in front of him. He wanted to ask her why she’d been missing for the past two weeks. He wanted to ask her for her _name_ because he was certain it was as beautiful as she was. ‘Alright, Rogers,’ he told himself. ‘You’ve literally done the nearly impossible. You can talk to a girl.’

Marching up to her, Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and started off. “Hi,” he said a little too brightly. “Um, I hope I’m not being too forward, but I’ve noticed you and—N-not that I’ve noticed you in a purely physical—- Never mind. You look like a really interesting person and I…” Wait, she wasn’t listening. Steve finally dragged his eyes off the floor to find his dream girl with her chest against the pasta on the third shelf, her basket on the floor and her arms reaching way, way up in an attempt to grab a box on the top shelf. For a second there, Steve just kind of watched her, tilting his head to the side at the way her brow wrinkled in concentration, her lips pressed together in determination.

She was kind of adorable. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward and pulled the box off the shelf with ease, handing it to her and offering a sheepish smile. “Hi,” he said again, meeting her eyes this time because it wouldn’t work otherwise- he had to be confident. “I’m Steve. Uh, do you think you might want to get coffee sometime?”

The redhead looked up at him in clear amusement, her lips twisting into a little smirk. “I don’t drink coffee,” she said smoothly and God, her voice was like honey.

He spluttered a little bit, stepping back and trying to rebound from that. Was she letting him off easy, or did she just not drink coffee? “W-well, it doesn’t have to be coffee. They have tea there. Um, or hot chocolate.” His eyes darted away from her as he tried to list the things she might be interested in, ticking them off on his fingers. “Pastries and sandwiches and, uh… and water! They have water there too, if that’s better…”

A small hand landed on his arm and Steve cut himself off, raising his eyes again to meet her gaze. “I’d love to,” she said and it only occurred to him then that she was _teasing_ him. Oh. He’d definitely known that. Wait, did she just agree?

“Yeah?” he chuckled. “Really? That’s great… That’s really great. Um, so maybe tomorrow? At that little place on Avenue P?” He was already backing away and rammed right into a display of pasta sauce, turning fast to make sure nothing spilled—and she laughed. His face lit up and he turned back to her. “Sorry. I just… I’m a little…”

Very smooth. All in all, probably one of his better moments, but she couldn’t possibly know that. As he babbled, she stepped up to him and leaned way up, kissing his cheek. “Tomorrow,” she confirmed. “I’ll meet you here and we can walk there together.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a pen and turned his arm over, writing her name and her number on the inside of his arm. Not his hand, he noticed, probably because it was pretty moist.

With that, she pulled away and looked him up and down, which earned her a lopsided grin and a nervous chuckle. “It’s nice to meet you at last, stranger,” she said, winking at him as she picked up her basket. Oh, that wasn’t fair. She knew _exactly_ how he’d been looking at her, didn’t she? She walked off and left Steve there, smiling like an idiot and blushing like there was no tomorrow. As he made his way out of the store, generally feeling like he was walking on air, he finally looked down at the neat writing on his arm.

Natasha. Her name was Natasha.


	2. Chapter 2

Because Steve was apparently a coward when his life wasn’t at risk, he decided to text Natasha the time he was free to meet her the next day (which was really all day, but she didn’t have to know that yet). They agreed on two in the afternoon and he wondered what she did for a living if she had such a strange time free. Hopefully, he’d find out on their date. Yes, their date! Months of pining and he was finally going on a date with Natasha.

On the day in question, he could hardly sit still for five minutes before getting back up and pacing. Poor Belle was watching him from where she was curled up on his couch, her big, brown eyes darting back and forth as he did. “What if I screw this up?” he muttered to himself. “What if she doesn’t ever want to see me again after today?” An entire morning of worrying turned into a long shower at noon and far too long a time picking out the right thing to wear. Eventually, he settled on jeans and a white tshirt, along with a beaten up leather jacket and sneakers. Casual. They were only going for coffee, so casual was best.

He arrived in front of the very supermarket they’d met in and stuffed his hands into his pockets, wandering back and forth because he just couldn’t stay still at the moment. It was making him crazy.

When she arrived, she must have watched him for a good few minutes before he noticed her and rushed over to greet her. “Hey,” he said warmly, looking down at her and pausing for an awkward length of time. Idiot. “You look really nice,” he added quickly, gesturing to her simple red shirt and jeans. “Uh, the coffee place is this way.”

Natasha seemed more interested in what he was going to do next than the coffee, but Steve figured that had something to do with the fact that he was fidgeting like a small child with attention deficit issues.

“So!” he said brightly- and nervously. “Tell me about yourself. If—If you want to, of course. No pressure.” Swearing inwardly, he covered with a smile and tried not to blush too much when she laughed at him, even touching his arm again. He was going to melt if she smiled any more than she was.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said easily. “I was born in Russia, and I moved here when I was ten to live with my uncle after my parents died.” He interjected his condolences and she smiled again, waving them off as politely as she could. “Let’s see. What else can I tell you, hm?” She tapped her chin and Steve had to smile down at her, leading her around a corner towards the place he had in mind. “I’m a dancer, in the New York City ballet. Right now I’m playing the Swan Queen.” She turned a critical eye to him and Steve felt like he was being examined. “Have you ever seen ‘Swan Lake’?”

No. Uh oh. “I haven’t, no,” he admitted sheepishly. He wasn’t one for ballet, to be honest. Steve loved movies, but theater was… expensive. It was _really_ expensive and he couldn’t exactly afford to go see shows all the time when he could just pay the eight bucks a month for Netflix. “But I’m sure it’s a great story,” he added. “I’d love to come see you dance.”

He knew he’d passed because Natasha pressed her lips together into a little smirk and slipped her arm through his, falling into step beside him. “That would be nice,” she allowed. “So what do you do? I’m pretty sure you’re not also a ballerina.”

Steve chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. “No, I’m… retired, I guess. I was in the army. Two tours of duty, and now I’m just…” It sounded so bad out loud. Now he was _what_? Damaged. Wounded. Useless. “I’m on leave.” Pause. “Indefinitely.”

She looked at him like she really wanted to ask, so he just filled in before she could figure out the most polite way to do so. “I was wounded,” he said quickly. “They said my head’s not on right, so I can’t go back in just yet. If, uh… If I’m going back in at all.” He hadn’t decided yet, after all. He just didn’t know if he could be of any more use that way, or if maybe he was better off staying home and doing something else with his time.

Meeting her eyes briefly left him wondering if what he saw there was pity of some kind- he hated that. He served his country because he wanted to and he was proud to take an injury for them, especially with the number of people who’d been saved in the meantime, while he’d distracted the enemy. The trade- many healthy, young men’s safety for his injury- was worth it.

Luckily, she didn’t seem turned off by his problems and easily turned the conversation to something more pleasant: movies, books, and music. Simple topics turned into long, easy stories about things they’d been through, anecdotes about their lives and childhoods… It was nice. By the time they sat down at the coffee shop with coffee for him, tea for her and a muffin for each, Steve was hardly nervous anymore.

Natasha, it turned out, liked horror movies and classical music, refused to reveal whether red was her natural hair color and let a bit of Russian slip into various things she said. Steve had to swallow an extra mouthful of coffee every time her voice deepened and took on that accent. Steve told her a little about his own life- about his dog back at home and how his mother had died relatively recently. He even told her about losing his best friend, though he was very grateful when she stealthily steered them away from that and asked him where he grew up instead.

Honestly, Steve had never been on such a comfortable date. They stayed in their seats for a long time, sharing and laughing and even flirting a little bit. When they left, Natasha suggested a walk through the park and Steve agreed right away, accepting her arm through his once again. They talked about past girlfriends- Steve’s one summer romance and all the idiots Natasha had dated. They talked about first jobs (paper boy for him, waitress for her), first kisses (Steve’s was with Peggy, on a dock during the one summer they’d been together, and Natasha’s had been when she was fourteen, with a boy name Alexei), favorite foods (burgers and pizza, respectively), pet-peeves (bad manners and dependency), and turn ons (confidence, he’d admitted, and she told him that she liked men with blue eyes).

The sun was beginning to set by the time Natasha said she had to warm up for that night’s performance and stopped them on the street so she could hail a cab. Steve had never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted to kiss her. But on the first date? She wouldn’t care, right? She didn’t seem like the kind of girl that would hesitate just because of societal exp—

Giving him a knowing look, Natasha had already pushed herself up on her toes and pecked him on the lips, her hand on his jaw to keep him steady. Steve really had no choice but to kiss back, and he was more than happy to, his big hand settling on an impossibly tiny waist.

When they parted, he smiled bashfully, ducking his head to hide how widely he was grinning. She chuckled anyway, reaching out to touch his chest. “I have tickets to a horror movie festival in just a few weeks, for Halloween,” she said, stopping there and giving him an expectant look.

A look he nearly missed, thank you very much. “Oh! Yeah, I’d love to come,” he said quickly. “Count me in.”

Smirking a little, she leaned up and kissed him again, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her. He loved that she was controlling his movements at the moment because he was pretty sure that he couldn’t do it himself. This time, they parted and Natasha bit her lip playfully before heading to the street and raising her arm for a cab. “I expect to hear from you before then,” she said boldly as a car rolled up to the curb. “Bye, Steve.” She winked at him before slipping into the car and disappearing down the street.

Again, leaving Steve there to stare stupidly after her, his lips still tingling from her kiss.

***A few weeks later…***

“I don’t care _what_ you say,” Steve protested, pushing a hand through his hair and tugging his coat around him to keep warm. “That was fucking terrifying and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.” Halfway through the damn festival and Steve was beginning to think that Natasha had a thing for blood. Or gore. Or suspense. Or just generally scary things, goddamnit. He was a soldier, and he just kept _repeating_ to himself that he was a _grown man_.

Natasha laughed and he glared at her, pressing his lips together. “And I did not _scream_ ,” he mumbled further, brow furrowing in a pout.

“You definitely screamed,” she deadpanned in reply, slipping her hand into his and moving closer so their arms brushed together as they walked. They came to a low wall near the park and she sat down on it, jumping up and tugging him closer by his jacket. “But that’s alright, дорогая. I’ll protect you.”

Steve huffed a little and leaned down for a kiss, letting his hands rest on her waist. He would let her protect him if she wanted to, just like he’d let her move some of her things into a drawer at his place, just like he’d let her make him pancakes the morning after they slept together for the first time.

They moved quickly, but that was just what was comfortable for them. She _let_ him worry over her when she worked too long in the gym to get a move just the way she wanted it and Steve felt like that was just part of being together. She didn’t like it, but she knew he was only trying to help. In the same vein, he _let_ her see him after a nightmare one night, hands clenched into hard fists as he fought back the tears in his eyes and shook from head to toe. He let her hold him, and she let him hide his face in her neck without saying anything about how the tears that fell on her skin.

But the biggest thing of all was nearly eight months down the line when, after a night spent in each other’s company- dancing, laughing, kissing and making love- she _let_ him slide a ring onto her finger and promised to be his wife.

Steve never had to go to the supermarket alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
